EDSA Shangri-La, 9:00 PM
It’s not a good way to start the week. Here I am with a lot of things to write about, a lot of things going through my head, and a lot of guilt bearing down me like the avalanche that is my life. Why, I do not know; maybe I’m just one for guilt trips every now and then.
I hope that everything’s OK for a friend of mine, but I’m no longer banking on anything good that will happen these days. Not to my friend. Not to me. Not for this godforsaken country that I’m drinking mango smoothies and brownies for. Ordinary brownies. Nothing special. A bit on the hot side.
Not that I’m a pessimistic emo-type self-mutilating boy named Sue, but for all intents and purposes, I’ve had it up to here. “Whatever happens” has just become “whatever” for me today. I feel more and more helpless as time goes on. And on. And m-effin’ on. I’ve had enough.
Hand me the bluepill. I need it. Now. More than ever. More than two years ago.
